


Britannia

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 18th century pirate AU, Angst, Betrayals, Britannia Angel, Complicated Plot, Conspiracies, Fluff, Human AU, Lies, Lots of royalty & nobility, M/M, Past UKSp, Pirate!England, Pirate!Prussia, Pirate!Spain, Plot twists & cliffhangers, Romance, Slow Build, War, false identities
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-07-11 18:50:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7065946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Kirkland, Captain of the Britannia Angel, is the most dangerous pirate of all the seven seas with an enormous bounty over his head. Little known is the fact that he has a second identity, one that is the polar opposite of a ravaging pirate.<br/>Alfred F. Jones, even when brought to a new country and given a new status, had never expected anything exciting to happen to him, let alone something life-changing.<br/>When destiny brings the two together under unlikely circumstances and yet again six years later, neither is expecting this new feeling to blossom between them.</p>
<p>        "I am Earl Asa Iggy Kerr. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Jones."<br/>"Huh."<br/>"What is it?"<br/>"Nothing. I just... thought it sounded familiar, is all."</p>
<p>        Faced with internal struggles, lies, false identities and even the outbreak of a massive war, will the two be able to stay together, or will this relationship end tragically like so many others?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_Six years ago_  
  
    It wafted along with the breeze, still prominent in the air after blood freshly spilt. The rustiness of the smell seemed to cling to Arthur’s lungs, and for the first time he found it nauseating. The horizon was red; tinged with the colour of the time just before dawn. He picked his way towards the helm, skirting around splintered wood and mangled limbs. From behind him he heard Gilbert mutter something incomprehensible in German to Antonio. Arthur hadn’t any attention to spare them though, for his gaze was fixed on the small huddle of people gathered on the raised platform behind the scorched rudder.  
  
    It was all that was left of the crew. No one was devoid of injury. Even from afar Arthur could make out bloodied skin standing out against the white of their tattered shirts. A few even looked on the verge of collapsing. But it wasn’t they who drew Arthur towards them.  
  
    It was the body that they surrounded protectively, almost lovingly. Arthur knew who it must be.  
  
    As he climbed what was left of the stairs that led up to the helm, the crew, as if by some silent and mutual understanding, parted before him. Arthur supposed, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he should’ve been prepared for what he was about to see. But then again, he’d denied the very possibility of it the entire time, forcibly ejecting the dread out of his mind until all that was left was an oddly calm sense of anticipation. The walls around his heart were thick; but they were also brittle, and Arthur knew it. He had built them by force, strengthened them by force, brutally desensitised himself by _pure force_ , shutting out all things that he thought didn’t matter to him.  
  
    Arthur had thought that it was successful. Antonio and Gilbert had barged into his life when those walls were still thin and not yet reinforced by the scars that had built up through the years, and he’d accepted them gladly. They were the only exceptions so far, the only ones not included in all the things that had been pushed away and kept a safe distance from.  
  
    Arthur assumed that he’d included his own brother in the latter group as well.  
  
    And humans should never, _never_ , make doubtable assumptions.  
  
    The gaze of two green orbs - dulled and tired from the long hours spent safely hidden away in the back of the storage room with two other warm bodies on command - settled on the lifeless form laid out neatly in the centre of the semicircle the crew formed. He blinked.  
  
    It was as if something made it difficult to focus all of a sudden.  
  
    The sight of his brother lying dead before him.  
  
    His face was still recognisable at least, but the red strands that framed his handsome face were matted with blood. A trail of the same liquid oozed from the corner of his pale lips, along his sharply defined jaw and down the side of his neck.  
  
    Then Arthur allowed his gaze to slip downwards.  
  
    And his body - Oh, his body. His lean torso looked like it had been subjected to the teeth of wild beasts. The normally smooth skin had been slashed apart, bone and sinew drawn out at places where they definitely shouldn’t be. A ragged wound that penetrated through the muscle on his chest marked the final killing blow.  
  
    Arthur dropped to his knees beside the corpse, and stared into the still open eyes of his own brother.  
  
    He couldn’t believe it.  
  
    It was impossible that Alistair Kirkland, the great Captain _Alistair Kirkland_ of the _Britannia Angel_ , the most feared pirate ship of all the seven seas, was dead.  
  
    What about the glorious battles he’d led his crew to victory in?  
  
    What about his reputation as the best swordsman anyone had ever had the chance to encounter?  
  
    What about all those times he’d single-handedly fought back the onslaught of death itself?  
  
    Did none of it matter, in the end?  
  
_It wasn’t possible._  
  
    Arthur felt it, then. Felt the barriers crack, felt the walls beginning to crumble.  
  
    Even the tightly toned muscle that physically surrounded Alistair’s heart had not been enough to protect him, did it?  
  
    And what was some imaginary shell to stand against the shattering despair that engulfed Arthur, swallowed him whole, blinded him until all he could see were the blank stares of his brother, the pair of eyes a mirror image of his own?  
  
    He had convinced himself that he did not love his brother.  
  
    When Alistair mocked him for not being able to stand his ground during fight sessions, Arthur told himself that he hated his brother. When Alistair bullied him into doing dirty thieving jobs for him, Arthur thought to himself that he would never forgive his brother for exploiting his position. Arthur had told himself over and over again that the one person he had the most conflicting feelings for in the entire world was his own brother.  
  
    Yes, they trusted each other with their lives in times of battle, fought together and saved each other’s lives countless times.  
  
    But they were not close, no.  
  
    Arthur assumed that being distant from Alistair meant that he did not care for his brother.  
  
    And great seas had he ever been so wrong.  
  
    It collapsed then, the walls.  
  
    Arthur’s face contorted into something monstrous and unrecognisable. He leant forward and gripped the front of Alistair’s red overcoat, pressing his face into the rough fabric.  
  
    And he cried.  
  
    He did not even feel it when Antonio came to kneel next to him and pulled him in, hugging Arthur against him and murmuring a string of soft Spanish in his ear. No complaints came even when his tears soaked through the Spanish boy’s shirt. Dimly he wondered when the last time was that he’d broken down like this. He couldn’t make out what the other voices around him were saying - comforting words, probably - all he could do was reach out numbly and hold on to the boy whose arms encircled him.  
  
    Arthur had never before felt so devastated.

 

* * *

   
  
    From afar, he watched it burn.  
  
    The great bonfire that lit the evening sky raged on the rapidly disappearing shore, the ashes of the dead billowing high up into the heavens, leaving a blackened ring into the soil of the forsaken island.  
  
    As he watched, Arthur absentmindedly toyed with a new ring that adorned his finger. Before laying Alistair’s body down to burn, he’d removed all accessories and put them away safely in his quarters. The only thing that he had kept on him was this simple emerald ring. Perhaps he was being sentimental, but Arthur didn’t care. He knew now where not holding things close led him, and he did not want to repeat that ever again.  
  
    “Arthur.”  
  
    He turned to the sound of his name.  
  
    “¿Sí, mi amor?”  
  
    Antonio smiled at Arthur’s fluent Spanish. It was one of those smiles - the ones that could light up the midnight sky yet were soft and soothing. He knew Arthur was still recovering from his brother’s death and was in no hurry to pester him.  
  
    But priorities were priorities.  
  
    With Gilbert and the rest of the crew, Antonio knelt.  
  
    “Arthur Kirkland, Captain and quarter master. To where do we sail now?”  
  
    Arthur felt his lips twist into a grin. Gilbert looked up and grinned back, tossing a map to him in a lazy arc.  
  
    Unfurling the leather coil, Arthur studied their location. The ship had been damaged, but not beyond repair and still fully functional. In his mind he made quick calculations, and concluded that they needed to restock fully as soon as possible. Within a few seconds, he knew exactly where they were and what their destination was to be.  
  
    He turned back to his crew, and they looked back expectantly. Arthur was not going to disappoint them.  
  
    He took a deep breath.  
  
    “America.”


	2. Chapter 2

    “…thur.”  
  
    He stirred, but didn’t wake.  
  
    “ARTHUR.”  
  
    His eyes snapped open to the sound of his own name and the gentle shaking of his shoulders. Blearily, he spotted a mop of white somewhere in his vision.  
  
    “…Gil?” Arthur tried to focus on the crimson eyes of his first mate directly above him, at the same time identifying something odd on his face. “What…? Is it raining?”  
  
    Gilbert looked almost sheepish.  
  
    “No.” He cleared his throat, and averted his gaze. “You were crying. I assumed you had a nightmare.”  
  
    Arthur blinked, then raised a hand to his cheeks. To his surprise, Gilbert was right. He felt the wet streaks that ran down from the corners of his eyes instead of from the sky above, and he quickly wiped them away, embarrassed. He sat up, pushing himself up from where he’d used Gilbert’s legs as a pillow, and Gilbird the yellow chick hopped onto his shoulder and nestled into his collar. He looked around at the half dozen other boats carrying the rest of the crew and, searching for something else to say, blurted out, “Are we there yet?”  
  
    “Nearly. We anchored the ship a little too far away this time, but it’ll be safer that way. Royal guards are scheduled to be on patrol in a couple of days; we don’t want them spotting the most wanted pirate ship in the entire world floating around just off the coast now, do we?”  
  
    “Right, uh, no…”  
  
    The albino beside him was unimpressed by his attempt to change in topic. “Arthur.”  
  
    “…Yes?”  
  
    Gilbert’s eyes were narrowed to red slits, and Arthur shifted uncomfortably under his intense scrutiny. He felt it coming before Gilbert even gave voice to it.  
  
    “Your dream.”  
  
    A pause. It was hardly a question by the way Gilbert put it, but Arthur knew what he meant. Blood was still pounding through his veins from the heartache that the dream had brought back. Arthur knew there was no use in lying; there was no way Gilbert would be fooled by any other answer but the truth. They knew each other too well for that.  
  
    “Yes,” Arthur replied reluctantly, unwilling to admit his weakness in front of others. The events of that day six years before no longer haunted him every day, but it had been enough of a lesson to keep him weary of everything for years.  
  
    Wordlessly, Gilbert reached out and pulled Arthur into a tight hug. Over the years he had grown used to the fact that his best friend wanted to be seen as strong and invulnerable, but on the inside he craved to be loved. There was no more emotional barrier, but Arthur would still close himself up on occasion. The world he lived in, in addition to his dangerous life as a pirate, made it impossible to ensure that he would never have to face the loss of a loved one; the death of his brother had proved this. Gilbert grimaced into empty space where no one could see. He could understand Arthur’s situation perfectly, for he had similar experiences too, after all.  
  
    “Gil, I’m okay.” Arthur mumbled, bringing the albino back to his senses, his cheek pressed against Gilbert’s shoulder.  
  
    Gilbert pulled back slightly, and locked eyes with Arthur with a dead serious expression. “I want you to remember that no matter what happens, you’ll always have us. You’ll always have me, the awesome me. Artie, you’ve been my best friend for eleven damn years, and that’s not gonna change. You’re like a brother to us. You’ll never lose us, I promise. We’ll always be here. That’s what best friends are for, isn’t it? I’m sure if Toni were still here, he’d be saying that too.”  
  
    “You make it sound like he’s dead,” Arthur laughed softly. “By the way, do you know if he’s coming around any time soon? I miss him.”  
  
    A grin made its way back onto Gilbert’s face.  
  
    “Oh yes, I’m sure we’ll get to see our Angel again soon enough. But first,” he turned as the looming shadow of a cliff emerged from the dense fog that shrouded the shore from view. “I’m pretty sure we have other business to attend to.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
    A servant was already waiting for them by the time they arrived at Howard’s mansion. They were in a medium-sized busy seaside city in Eastern Scotland, and the grey building towered over the small town houses it stood next to. The mansion was on the opposite end of the city, and the quickest route there from the docks was to cut straight through the centre of the city. But it was hardly an inconvenience; pirates, smugglers, thieves and criminals of all sorts frequented the place, and the seemingly ordinary, peaceful town was merely a front for the underground beehive that it really was, and Arthur’s presence was no surprise for the locals. They were composed of retired criminals and the like, and they didn’t care one single bit that the current most wanted person in the entire world visited regularly. In fact, they honoured their kin: so what if Arthur had a million pound bounty over his head? They would never sell him out; many owed him favours while others were old friends of his brother.  
  
    As the trusted head of Arthur’s international intelligence network, Howard was given the job of managing Arthur’s messages while he’s off pirating and plundering the seas. Arthur considered it enough that he could return every few months and deal with the pile of letters addressed to him. It had been two months since he’d last returned, and he wondered what sort of messages he’d receive this time. A letter asking to ‘borrow’ a few thousand pounds, perhaps. Or to bother him about some unimpressive matter. Once he’d even received a letter from some important figure requesting that he become the sender’s personal bodyguard, with a promised annual payment of three million pounds. Arthur had sneered at the letter and tore it in half - he could easily have ten times as much in one day if the ship he attacked was one transporting valuables, and it wasn’t like he was ever in it for the money anyway.  
  
    The servant bowed as Arthur and Gilbert stepped off the carriage that carried them across town. There were no coats or hats to hang as they’d both left their heavy overcoats back on the ship. Gesturing for them to enter, the servant said, “Master Howard is waiting for you in the usual room.”  
  
    They nodded in acknowledgment and marched into the mansion. Three hallways branched away from a generously spaced lobby, and the two turned into the one of the left. Arthur counted: ninth room to the right. Coming to a halt in front of the polished mahogany door, he knocked, waiting for the usual question that was asked to identify him.  
  
    “Tell me, what’s burnt and black and makes you want to cry?” asked an oddly twisted voice from the other side of the door, and Arthur suspected that Howard was trying to suppress laughter, though for what reason he didn’t know.  
  
    And then he did, after he realised what the answer would be. After ten seconds of unamused silence, Gilbert let out an ugly snort, then doubled over in fits of laughing. Arthur glared, and, turning back to the door, hollered, “Your dead body after I bloody skin you and burn you alive!”  
  
    “Ooh, terrifying, but wrong,” Howard sounded amused.  
  
    Arthur’s face darkened, and he muttered threateningly under his breath before he answered. “My goddamn cooking, alright, Howard, now _let us the hell in_.”  
  
    The lock clicked and swung open, revealing Howard’s smug face. Arthur fought back the temptation to smash it with something spiky. He stalked in and flung himself down on the couch. Gilbert followed suit, his yellow chick fluttering in behind him.  
  
    Arthur scowled at Howard as he seated himself across from them. “I am never cooking for you ever again, I swear to God.”  
  
    “Hm, I would certainly hope so,” came Howard’s mild reply as he sifted through a stack of letters on the desk.  
  
    “Shut up!”  
  
    “Howard, consider yourself lucky. He only cooked for you once. Imagine having to put up with that ever since you were eleven,” Gilbert put on a show of reminiscence, even reaching out a hand to grab at the air. “Imagine all the fires… Good thing we’re constantly surrounded by water.”  
  
    _“Shut up!”_  
  
    Howard snickered at Arthur’s embarrassment, and handed over the letters. “Well, we’re certainly not going to let you live this down. But anyway, back to business. You’ve got quite some letters thanking you, with varying degrees of gratitude and varying degrees of how much they would oh-so-very-much-indeed like a favour from you again in the future, which I know you won’t bother looking at so they’re here -” he waved the letters in the air, “- and the ones you’re holding now are the ones from some members of the British nobility, some unnamed senders whom I’m guessing are fugitives asking to be of your service on that ship of yours, and Antonio.”  
  
    “Oh goody,” Gilbert huffed out lazily, leaning back on the couch as he waited for Arthur to open the letters. “Thought that idiot might have forgotten us.”  
  
    Arthur pulled out his dagger and slit the seal apart on the letter from Antonio, trying his best to avert his gaze as he knew what deformed things would be on it but to no success. The Spaniard had doodled some ridiculously mangled unidentifiable things on the envelope and even Gilbert visibly blanched at the sight of them. Scooting over so both of them could read, Arthur unfolded the letter - which was unsurprisingly comprised fully of Spanish - to see a page-long overly-excited rant about what was most likely anything that came to Antonio’s mind while he sat there writing the letter.  
  
  
  
    _Dearest Gil and Artie,_  
  
_Hello from the Devilfish! Everything’s going great here, hope it’s the same for you._  
  
_…_  
  
_Staying in France for a bit, near the Italian border._  
  
_…_  
  
_I have a new sailor! And no, don’t tell me no-you-shouldn’t-have-taken-him-in-because-don’t-trust-the-kind-of-people-who-throw-themselves-at-you, I definitely should have, you’ll see. Don’t make the assumption that everyone’s bad, see. Blocked me at the French port and demanded to join me. Still don’t know why he’s so determined to be with me of all people. Turns out he and his little brother had escaped from some people who wanted to catch them, for what reason I don’t know, and they’d split up due to unforeseen causes and he was all alone. So he’s been on the run for a few weeks now._  
  
_He wanted to be just a cabin boy and that’s what they usually get, yeah? But no, him being a cabin boy is like… it’s kinda like throwing either of you into a fight with a child. Or a turtle. You get what I mean? He’s too good. The title of cabin boy is not even worthy of him as the bearer. Now I know how he’d managed to survive those weeks he’s been on the run, just with his intellect alone he could build up a fortune._  
  
_He can even speak fluent Spanish! English too. He’s so smart. The other day I asked him to read a map for us and he did it so quickly. Definitely worth keeping around. And he’s so cute too! He’s got this hair curl on the right side of his head but he never lets me touch it… He can be so rude sometimes. But he doesn’t really mean it, I can tell. I think it’s just the frustration of the situation he’s in._  
  
_Oh, and his name is Lovino, by the way. Can’t believe I told you guys so much about him and forgot to tell you his name. I asked him Lovino What and he said just Lovino for now. Oh well. I guess it’s the other way around with the trust issues now, isn’t it._  
  
_…_  
  
_Might pay you guys a visit soon~ Don’t know when, though. It’s been too long since I last saw you guys._  
  
_I MISS YOU GUYS SO MUCH._  
  
_Want to hunt down another ship? Or… actually, five. You know the bunch of weirdos who calls themselves ‘The Red Skulls’? I heard from one of my very trusty informants that they plan to raid the London port in another few weeks. Biggest raid they’ll have ever staged if nobody stops them. That would be really quite devastating, now, huh?_  
  
_Time for some fun, don’t you think._  
  
_…_  
  
_Oh dearie me I actually wrote quite a lot. Time to wrap up. Arthur, lot of love, don’t get mad too much since it’s not good for your health, try to eat something decent for once, don’t get busted, don’t die. Gil, lot of love for you too, try to keep Arthur from going on a rampage every single time someone disses tea or his cooking, don’t let him drink too much of that tea either, please be careful, don’t waste your bullets, don’t squish Gilbird._

  
_As much love as I can give,_

  
_Toni_

  
_A.K.A. Your best friend whether you like it or not. But I’m sure you like it._  
  
  
  
    Underneath which was a rather large and rather ugly splotch of ink which had unsuccessfully been covered with a drawing of a tomato. Arthur’s mouth twitched in amusement. He folded the letter and handed it to Gilbert along with a muttered “Lovino, huh… interesting…” who then folded it yet again and put in into one of his many secret pockets.  
  
    Arthur shuffled through the pile of letters, cringing in disgust at the shamelessness of some, rolling his eyes at the meaninglessness of others, until he found the one letter he had been expecting. Neatly written in royal blue ink were the words “ _To his excellency Earl Asa I. Kerr_ ”.  
  
    “Finally,” Gilbert mumbled as he saw it too. “One addressed to the other you. I was just getting bored. A nice masquerade or something would help.”  
  
  
  
_Your excellency Asa Iggy Kerr,_  
  
_We are pleased and honoured to inform you that you have been invited to a formal event hosted by Sir Francis Bonnefoy._  
  
_Date: 7th February_  
  
_Venue: La Rose Bleue, London_  
  
_Time: 4 p.m., sharp. Dinner would be served._  
  
_Note that this is merely a formal event and not a ball or serious social gathering. It is also a celebration of sorts. The Marquess’s adoptive son, Alfred F. Jones, will join us for the first time since coming to England. This also marks his true entry into the world of the nobility, as he had been made Viscount as of two days ago, on the 22nd of January. As your position is distinguished and somewhat special, we expect you to be there. It would surely make the young Mister Jones feel more welcome._  
  
_Sincerely,_  
  
_The Royal Messengers, on behalf of Her Majesty the Queen._  
  
_24th of January, 1738_  
  
  
  
    “Alfred Jones, huh.” Arthur looked up at Howard. “What have you got on this guy?”  
  
    “Let’s see…” Howard tilted his head, looking thoughtful. “Nineteen years old, American, very intelligent - I heard that’s why the marquess had his eyes set on adopting him in the first place - and on top of that he is really quite charming. I’ve heard that many young ladies all across England have set their eyes on him already. He has a bright future ahead of him, and the Marquess should feel rather satisfied that he has a such a reliable son.”  
  
    “But there’s nothing really special about him?”  
  
    “Eh, nah. Just has a lot of potential.”  
  
    “So basically they just want me there for a party thrown for this Jones?” Arthur’s asked in disbelief. “Nothing useful to do then?”  
  
    Gilbert punched his arm. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Told you, I’m bored.”  
  
    “Oh? As far as I can tell, you’re never bored, especially if me or Toni were around.”  
  
    “…Sometimes I seriously wonder who is the more egoistical between the two of us.”  
  
    Arthur smirked. “But fine, I’ll go.”  
  
    They quickly finished the rest of the letters, gave Howard yet another box full of riches, and left the mansion.  
  
    As they made their way back across town, Gilbert’s pockets stuffed full with crumpled letters, they crossed the bustling marketplace that took up most of the city centre. Arthur and Gilbert strolled leisurely around, having already given their crew a four-day break - they were probably already roaming the town, visiting friends, buying whatever they fancied, going to brothels. Gilbert was happy enough simply being with Arthur. As they passed stand after stand displaying wicked blades and the finest jewellery, something oddly familiar in his peripheral vision caught Arthur’s attention. He halted in his tracks and swivelled around to have a look.  
  
    It was a brilliant green ribbon.  
  
    “What are you looking at?” Gilbert asked curiously, coming to a stop as well and squinting in the general direction of Arthur’s gaze.  
  
    Arthur ignored him, and strode over to the stall that sold priceless jewellery of pearls, gold, and other precious metals. The ribbon itself was magnificent, yet it had been discarded to a corner of the table everything else was laden on. Arthur held it up gingerly to inspect it.  
  
    Upon closer examination, it became apparent that the ribbon was not pure green. Small crimson rubies were embedded in the outline of the cloth, and on either end were two masses of black gemstones packed rather tightly to nearly completely cover the green underneath. As he stared at the green cloth, he couldn’t help but think of how similar it was to the colour of his own eyes. But he knew there was a pair of eyes that were brighter than his own, as this ribbon was. The colour of the ribbon was bright and full of joy, full of laughter and warm, loving friendliness. It wasn’t a cold, skeptical, and sarcastic green. And he knew that Antonio currently sported an ugly brown rag to tie his half-long curls in a low ponytail. It didn’t suit the Spaniard at all.  
  
    “Hey, how much should I pay for this?” he asked the shopkeeper - a large man whom he often traded with, holding up the ribbon so the man could see.  
  
    An eyebrow was raised. “Just pay whatever, Kirkland. That thing came with my last shipment, was someone’s heirloom or some shit, and my men thought it was pretty so they brought it to me. Hardly worth anything compared to the other things I sell. You can just take it if you want. My treat.”  
  
    Arthur considered the offer for a moment, then tucked the ribbon away safely in his pocket and placed a few gold coins down on the table. Nodding to the shopkeeper, he turned away and headed towards an inn with Gilbert beside him, his mind already busy contemplating all the things that needed restocking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I'm back.  
> I'm really sorry for not updating in THREE MONTHS or some shit but I've really had a ridiculous couple of months, but I promise I will do me best to update more frequently from now on.  
> Oh, and, expect some nice art for this too. But for now i'll be focused on the writing.  
> ...Holy heck this is gonna be one major project  
> Please go support me on wattpad too!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, please leave comments if you liked this. I'd really like to know how you guys found this fic, any suggestions or improvements I could make...  
> Any comments are welcome (apart from the rude ones, please leave those out)  
> I cross-post this on Wattpad and fanfiction.net.  
> This is only the prologue and it's long AF, so imagine the actual chapters...  
> Those'll be even longer so it'll take a while for me to update.  
> Thank you all for reading.


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